Are you nasty?

until you choke on the fumes. | MOIRP

[freelancerms]

A halloween party? Pass.

[freelancerms]

I will pass, for once.

[freelancerms]

Huh. Das ist gar nicht mal schlecht.

[freelancerms]

{ my apologies for my inactivity! school’s stressing me quite a bit as of late, but i’ll try to pop in whenever i get the chance! }

[freelancerms]

Wait, was there dirty talk without me? Aw.

[freelancerms]

[message] I am simply the messenger. [message] I will be watching, always.

[msg] Oh my. [msg] I hope you plan on buying me dinner before watching me under the shower, however.[msg] I do require some courting.

[freelancerms]

rp-agent-maine:

Maine deliberately turned his back for several seconds, hoping that the woman, whoever she was, would get the hint and leave him be. Rummaging for spaghetti was not exactly a spectator sport, and the fewer people that knew about his cravings, the better. Despite not giving a rat’s ass what people thought about him, he was a little embarrassed at the thought of being known as the crazy old-timer who went ransacking inventory rooms to get some food. However, from the sounds of things, she wasn’t going to leave, and he sighed and turned, dusting his hands off. He gestured to the clutter on the floor. “Looking for spaghetti ingredients.” He wrinkled his nose, grimacing. “Director can get us fancy armour but can’t get us rations worth shit.” He shrugged. “But maybe I’m wrong.”

The thought of having potential dirt on one of her fellow freelancers had its appeal, though most of her mind was bound on turning down such a plan. After all, she worked for the purpose of working; team work was a necessary component and her comrades were to be kept safe at any cost. The second one would turn their back to them was the second they would grow irrelevant. However, as long as they served the same purpose, she was more than happy to behave accordingly.

She pushed herself off the door frame, making her way closer to the odd, odd soldier, eyes scanning the mess already conjured. “Spaghetti,” the blonde repeated, holding back a soft chuckle. “--that is hardly the worst choice.” A shrug of her own was given in turn. “I doubt you will find everything you need-- but once shore leave comes around, I suggest getting your hands on some things.”

[freelancerms]

agent-newt:

“So it definitely seems.” Newt let out a chuckle, finishing with his combat boots and cinching down the straps. “And yeah, you’d be correct in that inference.” He shrugged his shoulders a couple of times, getting himself situated in the rest of his armor. “I’ve got an hour or so on the floor. I think.” He paused, “I don’t really know.”

He stopped, shrugged and lifted up his helmet, staring into it’s visor, the hell that it had yet to see. In truth Newt missed his old ODST armor, there was some small charm about it. He sat, reminiscing and zoning out for a moment, caught up in how much had changed in so little time. 

A few more tweaks left and right and the majority of her task was nearing its end. A fond smile lingered on her features for a few moments, then, content spreading in her mind. It was one of the few things that could relax her within seconds, the cleaning of her instruments satisfying on an entirely different level than wreaking havoc. “You don’t know? Check your datapad.”

After a few moments of silence passed, the blonde took notice of the lack of conversation, placing one of her tools on the table and turning to glance at the other. He seemed occupied in thought, a condition she was all too experienced in disturbing. “Mississippi,” she announced, offering a hand in the other’s direction. “Sippy will do, however.”

[freelancerms]

freelancermaryland:

It wasn’t a surprise Maryland had knocked into someone- his mind was too busy trying to make a mental map to pay attention to where he was actually going. When he did, it was with a bit of a grunt, and more steps backward than was necessary. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he blurted automatically, and then upon looking more closely at the person he’d run into- namely, that she was considerably taller than him and more professional looking- he added, “No- no- it was my fault, really. I’m lost- I still haven’t figured out the layout of this ship.”

Almost as if by reflex, her head tilted upward, allowing her to glance down at the other further. Thankfully for both of them, however, it was nothing but an initial reaction and the freelancer soon shifted into a more casual stance once more. Being addressed formerly seemed unnecessary, but hardly unwelcome. “I’m not even bruised,” came a lazy argument, corners of her mouth twitching into a bemused smirk. “I studied the map for a while. My, be at ease already. I won’t eat you-- yet. Where are you headed, then?”

[freelancerms]

[message] Wherever you go. Whatever you do. Gods will be watching.

[msg] Truly?[msg] They must approve of my latest approach to wreaking havoc.[msg] I do not yet feel smitten by any godly force.[msg] Who is this?

[freelancerms]

Mh. Interesting.

[freelancerms]

Her strolls had soon brought her to the hangar bay, leaving the agent’s eyes trailing along the various vessels displayed there. At times, nostalgia was a welcome demon to allow into her mind. With a content hum, she wandered along, soon reaching the hallway once more, only to walk into some unfortunate individual or another. Barely affected by the impact, she frowned briefly. “My bad. I should have been more attentive.”

[freelancerms]

rp-agent-maine:

Maine raised his head at the sudden inquiry, not quite jumping at the surprise but not entirely at ease either. He turned and saw a tall blonde woman leaning against the door, arms folded and giving him a questioning look. She looked almost cheerful, but there was a hardness in her eyes and an almost catlike readiness in her stance that spoke soldier. The Freelancer armour she was wearing was another subtle hint. “It does, does it?” he uttered. It wasn’t really a question, wasn’t really a statement. It wasn’t like it mattered. This was a personal undertaking, and didn’t require that he form some kind of teammate bond or work ethic. He was looking for spaghetti, and unless this woman had some tucked away in her armour slots, he wasn’t interested. “Don’t worry,” he said over his shoulder, turning his attention back to the shelf, “I’ll put it all back.” 

Needless to say, her confusion would not quite settle yet. While she was very familiar with the concept of sudden cravings, she could not help but think it a tad curious that one of the other agents aboard was raiding the inventory room and seemed entirely unaffected by the fact that one of his colleagues was already questioning his deeds. However, Mississippi was not the kind to turn her back on things that intrigued her, and so she stepped into the room instead, approaching the other leisurely while allowing her eyes to wander around her surroundings every now and again.

“I would assume so.” A healthy distance would only be appropriate, and so she decided to simply watch from nearby, the thought of some ulterior motive being involved tempting her thoughts briefly. Then again, the inventory room held little that could be of use to anyone other than the personnel aboard. “I cannot help but wonder, just what are you doing? I doubt there are strict regulations against it, but I am curious.”

[freelancerms]

agent-newt:

Newt had gotten into the habit of observing hi fellow agents, better to know combat style before hitting the field with them, and in such had found himself observing Mississippi. It had been some time since he had seen anyone utilize a minigun with such effortless finesse. The weapon basically was her, and she made it visible that not many could stand her down.

Glancing over to a clock Newt remembered it was his turn to use the floor next, and boy howdy was he ready to go, after watching such a thrill. He headed own into the armory to begin suiting up and also acknowledge the other agent’s performance.

Upon reaching the armory his first goal was in sight, slowly he approached the other agent, “That was impressive! I can’t recall the last time I’ve seen anyone handle a weapon that size with so little effort!” Suffice it to say, Newt was thrilled.

The shooting itself had set her at ease, familiar habits and demons suppressed by the briefest simulation of a rush she craved on a daily basis. Making the transition from pilot to Spartan had not been the easiest; pilots were hardly kept in check as regularly, were often let off the hook within the UNSC. Pilots were allowed to smoke in between hours of duty, Spartans hardly knew the definition of a break. Shore leave had its tempting aspects, especially since her fingers and throat itched for a cigarette break that had been overdue for months now.

She had been caught in thought by the time the other approached, her helmet sitting calmly next to her tools and gun. Her head turned lightly, giving a default smile of politeness to the other agent ( the armour was a bit of a giveaway, adding to his presence on the shooting range). Curiosity welled up within her, the few interactions she had had with other agents more than interesting up to this point.

The compliments did not go to waste, her smile turning into a mischievous smirk for the flash of a moment. “Why, thank you. It’s good to know the years of practise did not go to waste.” A light chuckle was given then, before she turned towards her gun once more. “I assume you are to occupy the range next?”

[freelancerms]

The shooting range seems to be more than suited to withstand Harley. I am quite pleased with the few runs I have had so far.

[freelancerms]

The barrel of her gun turned continuously, its tip glowing a fiery orange as bullets were sent flying through the room, hitting their targets with an adequate amount of precision and with frequency that left nothing to coincidence; any living being hit with a blast of them would be left in pieces.

Her gun equalled her pride, accompanied an old nickname and proved to be her most trust tool for any and all jobs. Usually, Harley was strapped to her back, her armour modified to hold the weight securely and armour enhancement only setting her more at ease than she was anyhow. Technology set aside, she was no feeble woman and could easily lift the piece of metal without any further help in civilian’s clothing, too.

The sound of a last few bullet shells hitting the ground soon turned into silence, orange fading and a hand stemmed onto her hip as she glanced at the destruction caused. A mildly content nod was given, the gun placed upon the table and tools next to it shifted about. “FILSS, end simulation. I will be on my way in 15 minutes.” After all, cleaning one’s gun was far from being an overrated procedure, so why not take your time with it?

[freelancerms]

rp-agent-maine:

Grimacing, Maine picked up another crate and inspected it. Flour, milk. Not what he was looking for. He let it fall to the ground with a clank, joining the dozen or so others that he had looked through. This trip to the inventory room was turning out to be a real disappointment. He had quickly realised that the rations aboard the ship were the basic military staples. Seemed that the director’s budget didn’t extend to food. He had been hungering for a big bowl of spaghetti, but the inventory room continued to yield up failure. Sighing, he started sifting through another row of boxes. A few packets of things fell to the floor as he did so, but he paid it no heed. It might’ve been his mess, but that wasn’t the important thing right now. He just wanted some spaghetti, goddamnit.

Pacing through the hallways of the ship tended to bear results the blonde had hardly expected upon her arrival. Meeting new agents seemed to increase her curiosity towards her colleagues further with each new face, causing her to grow interested in both outlay and presence of others the ship could offer.

Shifting and thudding sounded in the near distance, catching the attention of the agent. A quiet sigh was imminent, the lack of helmet she suffered anything but appreciated; her motion trackers could have come handy this time. Her feet dragged her further nevertheless, until she glanced inside the inventory room, gaze meeting a form she was yet unfamiliar with.

An eyebrow raised as she stood, arms folded before her chest and shoulder leaning against the door frame. “It appears someone is following a particular craving?” she announced easily, head tilting to the side lightly.